


Mother, Father

by lilsherlockian1975



Series: Journeys [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, I can't do sad endings, Parentlock, Romance, Sherlock's a good dad, Sherlock's a real boy, Sherlolly - Freeform, and some more angst, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/pseuds/lilsherlockian1975
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night of passion after Sherlock saves Molly's life, then everything goes to hell. Nearly six years later, after Molly has tried to start over Sherlock and Molly finally have the talk they should have had all those years before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother, Father

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written ParentLock before. Again, pushing myself. This is my attempt to fill my own personal 'prompts'. It may be horrible, who knows. At any rate, Mother, Father is a very obscure Journey song they did for a soundtrack of a Japanese movie. It is, however on the Time3 box set. I do hope you all enjoy this (fingers crossed).
> 
> The lovely and talented OpalSkyLoveDivine beta read this one, though all mistakes are mine. MrsMcrieff answered my Brit questions, which were many. Bless her!
> 
> I own nothing.

* * *

"I have a surprise for you," Molly told Eddie as she finished drying him off after his bath.

The five year old beamed and turned around. "Papa's coming!" he squealed.

"Ya know, you could let me tell you at least once," she said, a huge smile on her face.

"Tonight?" he asked. Molly nodded and he flung his arms around her neck, completely unashamed of his state of undress. "Quick, Mummy. I need to pick out a book."

Molly and Eddie rushed into his room and found his nightclothes. They were just going through his favorite books when the doorbell rang and the over-excited child ran past his mother and down the hall. Molly chased after him.

"Sherlock," she said as Eddie practically jumped into his father's arms.

Sherlock smiled at Molly, then carried his son into the house.

Molly stayed in the sitting room and gave the two of them their time alone. It was so rare. She sat down in her favorite chair and took a deep breath.

It had been four months this time. Four excruciating months. The long absences were wearing on her child, and she didn't know quite how to go about navigating them. She was used to it. Edmond was not, nor should he be.

One night, one beautifully horrible night nearly six years ago, had changed both theirs lives. But for Sherlock, it was simply too much.

**o0o**

Molly was safe. Sherlock had saved her from Moriarty and brought her to Baker Street. Why? She didn't know. But he looked at her like she was the most precious thing on the planet and then it was a head long rush of mouths and tongues and hands. Clothes were suddenly gone, they didn't even make it to the bedroom. They made love in the sitting room of 221B Baker Street. It was glorious. Safe, exhausted and sated, Molly fell asleep almost immediately, head resting on Sherlock's chest. However, she woke up alone. Sherlock was gone. She gathered her things, dressed in the bathroom and rushed home.

She didn't see Sherlock again for two months. He didn't come into St. Barts. He didn't text. He didn't come to her flat. He simply disappeared.

By the time he finally showed up in the lab one afternoon, Molly had realised she was pregnant and was deeply hurt by his actions.

"Molly, I'm sure you're wondering where I've been. I..." he started.

Molly looked up and his words just died. "I'm pregnant. It's yours. I'm keeping it. I have a meeting." She picked up her mobile and a note book from the bench, then rushed past him.

Thus started an endless game of awkward encounters. Finally the Watsons attempted some sort of 'dinner party intervention' that ended in Molly storming out and not speaking to either of them for over a month.

Mycroft abducted her four times, sent her countless cheques in the post (which she immediately shredded) and at one point he actually begged Molly to simply go see his baby brother. She adamantly refused.

She finally excepted a position on the Isle of White shortly before her due date. Odd that she would be offered the position at all since she would be going on maternity leave shortly there after. She was certain Mycroft Holmes was to thank (though she never actually thanked him).

Sherlock had still failed to make any real attempt to contact her concerning the child they had made together. So she decided she needed a fresh start.

When Edmond was two and a half months old Sherlock showed up at her new house looking remorseful and asking, in his very Sherlock way, if he could see his son.

And that's how it began. Every so often he would show up and allow his child a moment of his time. Eddie adored his father. Worshiped him. After the third visit Molly told Sherlock that she at least required some advanced notice. So a text would come at some point the day before or the day of a visit.

Molly was still hurt, but not nearly as angry. She had grown up without a mother, she wasn't going to deny Eddie his father, no matter what. Besides, Molly knew that Sherlock Holmes was a good man who had made some bad decisions, especially where she was concerned. He seemed to be trying with his son.

She regularly took Edmond Douglass Hooper to visit his only grandparents, Sherlock's mum and dad. She made the trip at least once a month. She also made sure Mycroft saw him as often as he wished. John and Mary came down around holidays, she didn't really mind (as long as they didn't bring up Sherlock.) Life continued. She was happy, well... she had Eddie and he made her happy.

When she thought about it she realised that the only thing Sherlock ever gave her (other than heartache) was her son. He was magnificent. He was all hers. Except when he was Sherlock's. When his father was around Molly simply didn't exist. Which was fine. Their time was rare, so it was precious.

Molly went into the guest room and checked it one more time. It was ready. Sherlock had asked if he could stay the night this time. He'd only done that once before. She turned on the bedside light for him  
then went into her room, and cried.

* * *

"How long are you staying Papa?" Eddie asked his father.

"I need to leave tomorrow night," Sherlock answered.

"A case?"

Sherlock looked into his son's big brown eyes, eyes that were almost painfully identical to Molly Hooper's and he lied. "Yeah, a big case."

"Will you tell me about it when you're finished?"

"Sure, of course," he said, then he kissed his son goodnight.

As he walked out into the hallway he checked for signs of Molly, hoping by chance that she'd still be awake. No luck. Not that he had any idea what he'd say to her if she had been. He just wanted to look at her. He'd only seen her for a minute before she had veered off toward the sitting room, just like always.

He started for the spare room when he heard a soft sound coming from her bedroom.

 _Oh_ _,_ _God no!_ Somehow, miraculously, Sherlock had never experienced this... The whole ordeal of impregnating Molly- hurting her- letting her down, he'd managed to never witness this... he'd not heard her cry, not seen one tear fall because of his awful behavior. Like the coward he truly was, he had managed not to be there for any of the difficult things.

He'd paid no price for his sins (not exactly true). He still lived at Baker Street. He still solved crimes, and he still had all of his friends (well perhaps not all). Molly had given up everything. Her job, her flat, her life, even her bloody cat, all because she needed to get away from him. All he'd given up was her. _Oh, but what a cost._

He couldn't move even though he desperately wanted to. He stayed there and listened to Molly sob, alone, in her room. In all likelihood, this was not an isolated occurrence.

Contrary to popular opinion, he too experienced these moments of oppressive sadness. Yes, Sherlock Holmes had... _feelings._ When those awful emotions plagued him Sherlock would pick a fight with John or even Mary if he was feeling particularly dangerous.

Sometimes he'd walk the streets threatening himself with old habits; going so far as trying to find a dealer. Only to pull out his phone, at the last minute, and look at a photo of his son then turn back around and go home and abuse his violin.

Other times, though he'd deny it to his dying breath, he'd just sit in his chair and imagine Eddie in Baker Street, a small violin in his hands; practicing his scales. Molly in John's old chair reading a book, her glasses slipping down her nose as she became engrossed in the plot. He'd picture all of this and he'd smile for only a moment until the tears would start to fall. _Not so much a machine after all._

When a man realises he's lost everything that would ever matter to him; the world starts to look different. The way Molly looked at him that afternoon in St. Barts, telling him she was pregnant then storming off; he knew she hated him and frankly he didn't blame her one bit.

What was he thinking? Making love with no protection and not even telling her how much he loved her? And then... then leaving for two months. _God, he was a fool._ He deserved the pain. He deserved to be ostracized. He _didn't_ deserve to be allowed to see his son and watch him grow up. But Molly would never do that to him. He, however, made a decision. He'd only spend enough time with the boy so that he knew he had a father and that he loved him. He wouldn't encroach on their lives. No, they deserved better. Certainly better than he could provide.

He had hoped that Molly would have met a nice man by now; he was shocked that she hadn't. She was brilliant and kind and loving and oh, so beautiful. At one point he thought it was perhaps Edmond. But his research proved that many men Molly's age didn't have a problem with single mothers.

She wasn't looking as it turned out. She wasn't trying. That puzzled Sherlock to no end. She had so much love to give. He knew better than anyone; she had freely given her love to him for years and he'd thrown it back in her face, like the bastard that he was.

Suddenly her bedroom door opened and a puffy eyed, red faced Molly Hooper ran smack into Sherlock's chest. His hands automatically reached up and took her by the shoulders. They stood there frozen for twenty-nine seconds.

"Why are you standing outside my door?" she asked in a surprisingly strong voice.

"Why were you crying?" he asked in response.

They continued to stare and he didn't let go.

"I do that sometimes," she replied honestly.

And as if someone else were speaking for him, as if he weren't in command of his own voice, Sherlock Holmes said, "So do I."

"Why?" Molly asked in a whisper.

"Because I left. And then you... left."

Tears started falling down Molly's cheeks once again. She couldn't speak.

"I should have told you- I wanted to tell you that..." Sherlock swallowed. He felt like his throat was closing up, but no, she deserved the truth. His penance. "I should have told you that I love you, but I was too late. By the time I got back... and sorted...you h-hated me," he finally managed. "I don't, I don't blame you."

Molly raised her hand to her mouth and sobbed, shaking her head.

"Please, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any..." he started but was cut off.

"You're lying! Why are you lying?" Molly choked out, as her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor.

Sherlock caught her and eased her to her knees. "I'm not. Molly, I'm so sorry," he said kneeling in front of her, trying to get her to look at him. He gave up and simply held her to his chest while she cried.

Finally she stopped crying as hard, and took a deep breath. "I... I don't hate you. I never did. God, you hurt me... crushed me. I thought... I thought you regretted it. At first I was confused, then I felt dirty and used but I never... oh, Sherlock I couldn't hate you."

"Of course you could- you should... I... Molly?" Oh, right. Molly Hooper was incapable of that kind of malice. Sherlock cradled her head in his large hands. "What the hell have we been doing?"

"Do you, I mean, still..." she started.

"It kills me to leave you and Eddie every time I go; I hate it. I'll do anything, Molly. I'll move here. I'll quite consulting. I'll get a proper job."

Molly looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Why in God's name would you do that?"

He moved to take her hands in his. "To prove that I can be a proper, ah... _mate?_ Father? Husband? I don't know what you want..."

"You are a good father, Sherlock. Eddie adores you. He just wants to see you more. And as for a... _mate_." She quirked her eyebrow. "I fell in love with a consulting detective, thank you very much. Please don't change."

He was smiling but it quickly dropped. "I have changed Molly. I live for the times I'm with my son, and the fleeting moments I see your face. Cases, the Work... they don't..." He paused and looked down at their joined hands. "It's not the same."

Molly reached up and stroked his ridiculously sculpted cheekbones. "I know what you're saying Sherlock. I do. But if this is real- if you're serious about us, me and Eddie, there's no going back. If you hurt me, you hurt your son. Understand?"

Sherlock looked at her, this woman with whom he'd shared one night of unbelievable sex and over ten years of longing. Oh, they may have given into passion after the Moriarty business, but he'd been fighting it for years... so many years. _Such a fool_. He wasn't losing it now, not when he finally had a chance. "I love you Molly Hooper. I've loved you for so long. Before that night- before the Fall. I will, if you allow it, prove it to you for the rest of our lives. Please... may I kiss you?"

Then Molly did the most amazing thing. She smiled. The smile he'd missed for the last five years. _His smile._ The one he had coveted and pulled from the corners of his mind palace on the loneliest of nights. It was breathtaking.

"Of course," she said.

He kissed her like a man dying of thirst. He kissed her like it was his first kiss and the last kiss he'd ever be allowed. He kept on kissing that amazing woman, in the hallway of the small house on the Isle of White until he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

"Papa? You're in my way," Eddie said, pulling Molly and Sherlock out of their passionate embrace.

"Oh, um Edmond," Molly said as she quickly stood up. "Why are you awake?"

"I have to wee."

"Right," Molly said, but still didn't move.

"Mummy, you're in front of the loo."

Sherlock jumped up and both adults shifted out of the child's way as he gave them the most peculiar look. As Eddie shut the door Sherlock turned to Molly and said, "Well that was awkward."

"Now what?"

"He'll have questions," Sherlock said as he started pacing.

Moments later Eddie came out drying his hands on his pj's. Molly crouched down in front of him. "Are you okay love?" she asked.

He looked at her, then at Sherlock. "Yeah. I forgot to _go_ before bed."

"Oh, right," Molly said. "I mean... well... before, when you saw..."

"You mean about you and Papa kissing?"

Sherlock got down on his knees and took one of his son's hands. "Yes, Eddie. Do you have questions?"

"No. I've seen kissing on telly. River's always kissing the Doctor."

Molly and Sherlock both laughed. "But what were asking is, do you have questions about us, me and Papa?"

Eddie yawned and shook his head. "Oh no. I deduced that you two would be together by Christmas at the latest. Can I go back to bed now?" he asked his stunned parents.

They just nodded.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know what you think (since it was a bit outside my comfort zone!) Thanks so much for reading.~Lil~


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